


I Choose You

by greerian



Series: Waking Up with You Beside Me [2]
Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forced Marriage, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Relationship Issues, Shoplifting, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, discussion of eating disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 15:10:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7849921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greerian/pseuds/greerian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"And, Arnold- we have to have kids someday," Kevin pleads. "You know that.” </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>But Arnold won’t look at him. </i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>“You don’t, though,” Chris says. “Do you.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	I Choose You

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of Like Real People Do. It starts just after Kevin leaves rehab for his relationship issues. This won't make sense without reading that first.  
> Title is from the song of the same name by Sara Bareilles. 
> 
> Feel free to ask any clarifying questions; I'm not sure this makes a ton of sense. But it's up the day before classes start, so fuck yeah.
> 
> Also, tbh... I headcanon Kevin as ace in this story. Do with that what you will.

“How did you… how come you’re so good at dealing with my…” Kevin waves his hands vaguely. “Issues.”

“Oh, uh…” Arnold’s thumbs tap and rub the black faux leather of the steering wheel. “I had to take some classes. For matches of… of risky, uh, folks.”

Kevin turns. “You took _classes_?”

“Just, like, communication and stuff,” Arnold hastens to say. “Personally, I think my parents wouldda gotten something out of them, too, and neither of _them_ were high risk, but… I dunno, Kev, it was helpful.”

Kevin settles back into his seat. “...was this before or after the wedding?”

“...after,” Arnold admits. “They’re… supposed to help with the transition.”

Kevin huffs. “That worked out well.”

“Hey, I think so.” Arnold flashes a grin his way. “Look where we are now.”

Kevin side-eyes his husband. “Driving home from rehab.”

“Driving _home_ ,” Arnold reminds him. “Not _back_. Okay? So… I think that’s pretty great.”

“Arnold…” Kevin sighs. The world flashing past the passenger window is one he recognizes. They’re almost at their apartment. “I have no idea if this is going to work.”

“But we’re _trying_.” Arnold reaches across the console to grab Kevin’s hand.

Kevin almost smacks him in surprise. He eyes Arnold from the passenger seat and thinks _You are way too optimistic._

But… they are trying. That’s more than Kevin’s dad did.

Kevin squeezes Arnold hand in reply.

* * *

 

There’s absolutely no alcohol left in the house. Kevin checks.

“So,” he says, un-shoving his shoulders from beneath the kitchen sink.

“...yeah,” Arnold replies. “I, uh… sorry.”

Kevin shakes his head. “I get it,” he tells Arnold, straightening up and dusting off his hands. “It wasn’t great for me, anyway.”

Arnold blushes. “Not great for a lot of reasons,” he mumbles. His hands are clasped and hanging down in front of his belly. Kevin follows the line of them with his eyes, and just beneath is-

“ _No_ ,” he snaps.

Arnold looks up, startled. “What?”

“We’re not- not doing anything. Not _that_. Okay?”

“Not… oh.”

Kevin shakes his head. He can’t meet Arnold’s eyes, but he keeps his chin high as he strides into the- into _their_ bedroom. He came back. He’ll be Arnold’s husband again. He’ll even share the bed. But Kevin refuses to let Arnold touch him like that.

Not… yet, anyway. ‘Never’ is a long time, and… stranger things have happened. Like being back here making Kevin… _happy_. In his apartment. With his husband.

Stranger things, for sure.

* * *

 

They’re still in marriage counseling. Of course. Not with Lisa, though. Kevin thanks- well, he thanks _Arnold_ for that, because Arnold is the one who got them with somebody else.

“I didn’t, uh, _dislike_ her,” he replies, when Kevin presses. “But I didn’t think _you_ liked her too well, so…”

So they go to a new office. They settle into a new overstuffed, worn sofa. They fill out new paperwork. And they see a new therapist.

“I’m Chris,” he greets them. “‘Dr. Thomas,’ if you really want to get technical, but I’m maybe five years older than you two, so…” He chuckles as he falls into his own chair.

He’s a cheerful guy, and short. Also, he’s enormously pregnant.

“You’d think it’s twins at least, right?” he says, when he catches Kevin’s eyes on the swell of his stomach. “I wish. Nah, it’s just one little guy in there, believe it or not. My husband is six foot five, though, so that might have something to do with it.”

“...yeah,” Kevin replies. Man, is he glad Arnold… isn’t. He can barely imagine carrying a baby at all, much less one _that_ big. _Another thing to be grateful for_ , he tells himself wryly.

“So,” Chris says. “What’s going on here?”

Kevin and Arnold shoot glances at each other from their opposite ends of the couch.

“You have our files,” Kevin says after a while. “Don’t you know already?”

Chris nods, nonchalant. “I’ve got one side of the story,” he answers. “And I’ve got two more sitting in front of me. So spill; how come you’re talking to me today?”

Arnold doesn’t say a thing.

 _Kevin_ doesn’t want to answer. He’s been through all this; he doesn’t want to regurgitate it for another therapist, no matter how tiny or cheerful he is. He knows why Arnold isn’t talking, though, and it’s all his fault.

Kevin takes a deep breath and mans up.

“I… reacted badly to my match,” he says. “The, the _male_ part, primarily, and that I’m- I’m the carrier between us. I was raised LDS, and I don’t know how much _you_ know about that, but it’s not… not in favor of _either_ of those things.

“So when Arnold and I, um… well, when we got _married_ -” The word stings. Kevin digs his thumbnail into the side of his pointer finger. “-it didn’t go well. For obvious reasons.”

Chris nods.

“So, I started drinking, and Arnold didn’t like that, so he sent me to a doctor, and I- I told the doctor _why_ , and-”

“What did you tell the doctor?” Chris asks.

Kevin stops. “I just said I told him why I was drinking.”

“Which was?”

Chris has whipped out a pen from somewhere, and it’s hovering over the clipboard balanced on his belly. This is the part Arnold doesn’t know. Kevin flinches in anticipation.

“...I told him I didn’t want to get pregnant, and… and my husband wouldn’t touch me if I was drunk.”

Chris looks to Arnold. “Is that true?”

Arnold nods, once. Then, nothing.

Chris turns back to Kevin. “So…?”

Kevin doesn’t really know what to do. He thought for sure Arnold would at least… be offended. Or something. He already… he _knew_ that was why Kevin drank - Kevin said as much in that session with Lisa - but Arnold didn’t know it was why they got sent to counseling. Shouldn’t he be angry?

“S-so, I… I mean _we_ went… that was… the doctor referred us to…” Kevin whirls on Arnold. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Arnold does a weird, pathetic, shrug-shiver-head-bob _thing_. It pisses Kevin off.

“What the _heck_ , Arnold, this isn’t counseling for _me_. I’m not the only one with problems here!” He probably _is_ , honestly, but Kevin’s sure not going to say that. “It’s _couples’_ counseling, for both of us! Why aren’t you- C’mon, you’ve got to have _something_ to say!”

“Arnold,” Chris interjects calmly, “do you have anything you would like to share?”

Arnold shakes his head.

“What the _hell_ ,” Kevin snaps. “You won’t shut up at home; what’s your problem here?”

He sees Chris open his mouth out of the corner of his eye, but Arnold folds in on himself and mutters “The last time we did this, I…” His voice cracks. “I just don’t wanna talk, okay?”

“Thank you for sharing, Arnold,” Chris says, as if this is a normal thing for him. It probably _is_. He doesn’t know either of them. He doesn’t _care_. “What happened last time?”

Keivn has a hard time remembering how to breathe again.

“I… I said some stuff,” he replies numbly. “About… look, you already know what happened, don’t you? Why are you making me do this?”

“I want your side of the story,” Chris says again, smiling. “I don’t know your perspective, Kevin, and that’s important to me. I need to know what you were thinking.”

“Why?” Kevin asks. He’s dug in his nail so far he’s drawing blood. “So you can, what, fix me? I’ve already been to _rehab_ , okay?”

“And now you’re out. I want to know what happened.”

Arnold fidgets. Kevin tries to take a deep breath, but his chest is tight. He can barely gasp.

“Fine,” he spits. “I told Arnold I never wanted to marry him, I didn’t want him, and I never wanted his kid. That’s what happened at the last therapy session. Happy?”

Chris smiles. Kevin stares past him out the window.

“I walked out,” he says. “Then some rehab people picked me up, and I spent half a month in there.”

The clock ticks for a while, without anyone’s interruption. Chris is taking a lot of notes.

“All right, Kevin,” he says mildly, and out of the blue, “I have a question for you. Did you ever see yourself as a person who might need marriage counseling?”

Kevin wasn’t expecting that. “Um…” he smiles reflexively. “No, I… I didn’t. Counseling isn’t… I never thought I would need it. I didn’t think I’d be in a messed up relationship. I… I thought…” Kevin trails off. He thought about faceless girls and happy endings. “...I guess that’s not realistic.”

Chris grins. “Probably not,” he says. “Y’know, my husband and I are in counseling. We’re not required to go, but we’re doing it anyway.”

Kevin makes a face. He feels precarious, like a vase balanced on the edge of a table, but that- why would anybody want to do _that_?

“Yeah, I know, it’s sounds crazy, doesn’t it?” Chris laughs. “A lot of people have issues when babies come into the picture, though. Connor and I don’t want that to be us.”

“...why are you telling us this?” Kevin. Arnold still isn’t responding.

“Because I want you to know that everybody needs help.”

“...oh.”

Chris nods and lets the folded back pages of his clipboard fall. “Counseling isn’t just for ‘messed up’ relationships. It’s for everybody. Because _everybody_ , even people in love, need help sometimes. You two being here doesn’t say you’ve failed, or you’re going to fail. It says that you’re willing to try to make this better.”

“Yeah, he said that,” Kevin says, gesturing to the other end of the sofa. Arnold looks more like a ball than a person right now, with the way he’s hunched over. “But… seriously?”

Chris nods. “Besides, getting help isn’t embarrassing. Pretty much everybody ends up in a therapist’s office at some point. Kevin, nobody can do this alone.”

Now it’s Kevin’s turn to cross his arms, hunch his shoulders, and frown.

“What about Arnold?” he says. “ _He_ ’s part of this, too.”

Chris doesn’t skip a beat. “He can’t do it alone, either,” he answers. “Right, Arnold?”

Arnold nods.

Kevin sighs. _So_ he  _can get you to respond_ , he thinks. But Chris wants the whole story. Kevin has a feeling the guy won’t have a single compunction about keeping them late if he thinks he doesn’t have all the details, and they’re over halfway done with the session.

He clears his throat. “Anyway.”

“Yeah, what happened in the rehab center?” Chris flips back to his page, and his pen resumes its place.

“I…” Kevin sighs. He doesn’t know. “I don’t know.”

“You changed your mind about some things,” Chris supplies helpfully.

Kevin shrugs in response.

“How come?”

Oh, _this_ will be fun. “I learned some stuff. About my-” _family_ “-my dad. He… he was… I basically did exactly what he did. I didn’t… he’s a felon.”

Nobody says a word.  
“I didn’t know it,” Kevin rushes to add. “I… he never _said_ anything. He never… I had no clue.”

Chris’ pen scratches against his paper, taking more notes. Kevin keeps talking, if only to cover up that sound. And because Arnold _won’t_. “He didn’t even have any kids with my mom! And I didn’t know. I’m the oldest; you’d think he would have said something, at least when I got matched up. That’s what _normal_ parents do. They don’t- they _tell_ their kids if they’re adopted. If there’s… there’s something wrong with their family.

“But… he didn’t. My dad…”

There’s a droplet of blood trailing down Kevin’s finger, now. He dug his thumbnail in too hard. Chris offers him a tissue.

“So, uh…” Kevin lifts his chin. “It wasn’t right for me to be angry with- with Arnold, for something he didn’t… well, I guess he got more of a choice than I did. But he didn’t have to take me. I’m high risk. I didn’t know that. And… everybody wants the same thing out of the system; they want a spouse who loves them, and kids they-” His voice is much too watery for his liking. “You know what I mean.”

Chris waits. That pen hovers in anticipation.

“...I don’t know,” Kevin says weakly. “I lost my train of thought.”

“That’s okay.” Chris looks to Arnold. Kevin isn’t sure if he’s happy or annoyed that Arnold is back to being person-shaped. “Thoughts?”

“Oh, I, uh.” Arnold coughs. “I guess that’s cool?”

“That’s _cool_?”

Arnold’s widen a fraction of a second too late.

“My dad is a freaking criminal!” Kevin shouts. “My mom isn’t my _mom_! My family, they’re all gone. What- what part of that is anything remotely close to _cool_?!”

Arnold cringes.

“Kevin, stop.”

Kevin turns to Chris, aghast. “You just heard that, right?” he demands. “You heard him say that my life- everything I- he said that it’s cool!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of what he meant,” Chris says calmly. “So lower your voice, and ask what he was trying to say.”

“What? I can’t _believe_ -”

“Kevin. Lower your voice. And talk to him.”

“You’re not-” _in charge of me_ , Kevin is about to say, but he’s heard more mature things from four-year-olds. He stops.

“Communication, Kevin. What are you going to get out of yelling?”

Kevin glares at the therapist. Chris just takes it until Kevin huffs and turns back to Arnold.

“...why did you say ‘that’s cool,’” Kevin asks bitterly.

“I, uh…” Arnold won’t even look in Kevin’s direction. “I don’t know, I kind of panicked, okay?”

“You panicked.”

“Yeah! I mean, what am I supposed to say, Kevin? ‘Gee, I sure am glad you decided to give us a shot ‘cause your dad beat the crap out of, uh, your other dad?’ That’s- I think that’s more messed up than saying ‘that’s cool.’”

Kevin goes perfectly still. “...how much of this did you already know?”

“Kevin,” Chris interrupts. “You already knew your husband had disclosure on most of your file. That includes family history. You’ve read his file, too. Does he deserve your anger right now?”

“Yeah, and I thought you knew!” Arnold blurts out. Now he and Kevin make eye contact. He’s pleading; he’s _scared_. “I didn’t know what your dad didn’t say, okay? And I didn’t think it was that _bad_.”

“You didn’t-!” A sharp look from Chris, and Kevin slumps back in his seat. “You didn’t think it was that bad.”

Arnold knew; Arnold _knew_ , and…

“...no?” Arnold answers. “I didn’t… I didn’t care.”

Kevin hides his face in his hands.

“I think it’s fair to say that Kevin does,” Chris says. “Am I correct?”

A deep breath, and Kevin nods.

“Okay,” Chris continues. His tone is high and optimistic. Kevin wants to leave. “So, we’ve found something good here: Arnold doesn’t care about Kevin’s family history, while Kevin does. Is that an accurate thing to say?”

Kevin nods, and he assumes Arnold does too because Chris keeps going. “That’s an important thing for both of you to remember,” he says. “Because, obviously, there’s some contention there. If you don’t want to fight about this, Arnold, you’ll need to keep that in mind it’s a sore spot, and Kevin, you can’t jump down Arnold’s throat if it comes up and he’s too casual about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Arnold says.

“Okay,” Kevin mutters. Once he digs his palms into his eyes, he lets his hands fall. The world is blurry, but he can see Chris smiling. _Screw him_.

* * *

 

Kevin and Arnold leave with another appointment scheduled for that week and a question for Kevin: “You can’t control getting angry, I know that,” Chris said, pressing the appointment time card into his hand. “But, before you take it out on Arnold, ask yourself if he deserves it.”

“Sure, fine,” Kevin answered. Anything to get out of there.

“How’d you like him?” Arnold ventures as they buckle up. The car is brutally hot. Kevin burns himself on the metal of the seat belt, and brings his hand to his mouth instead of answering.

Arnold sighs and cranks up the AC.

* * *

 

“My dad didn’t beat the crap out of him,” Kevin mutters, halfway back to their place. “His match. My dad… threatened him. With a knife.”

“Oh, uh…” Arnold glances over, then right back to the road. “Okay.”

Neither of them says anything more.

* * *

 

The bedroom is dark and quiet, except for harsh whistle of Arnold’s breathing. He breathes more loudly than Kevin thought anybody could breathe. It’s frickin’ annoying.

Kevin stares up at the ceiling. It’s almost midnight, and he has work in the morning. _Early_ in the morning. Why can’t he sleep?

...he knows why. It’s because of the silent and awkward afternoon he and Arnold spent together after their session. It’s because of the dishes Kevin abandoned in favor of watching reruns of the Bachelor, alone. It’s because-

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to the ceiling.

A beat. Arnold twists around to face him. “What?”

“I said I’m sorry,” Kevin repeats. “I let the sun go down.”

“What.”

“‘Don’t let the sun go down on your anger,’?” Kevin asks. “You’ve heard that before, right?”

“Yeah, Kev. But that’s a stupid rule. The sun’s been down for hours, anyway.”

Kevin huffs. “Whatever.”

He shoves at his pillow and is just about to turn his back on Arnold when Arnold grabs his arm.

“Thanks,” he whispers. Even in the dark of the bedroom, Kevin can see the smile tugging at his full lips.

Kevin’s face burns. “Yeah, okay,” he says, and turns around anyway.

* * *

 

“Hey, Price! We’re heading out for drinks; you and hubby want to come with?”

Kevin doesn’t even try to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“Thanks, but no,” he says, turning in his chair to face the office wh- um. Floozy. “I’ve already got plans.”

He doesn’t.

Stacia’s dark eyebrows (they don’t even match her _hair_ ; what’s the point of dye if you don’t make it look real?) lift, and she smirks. Her lipstick makes it looks dangerous. “Why? You finally got a bun in that oven?”

...Stacia works in HR.

“That’s not work appropriate.”

“Oh my god, do you really?”

She swings up onto his desk without so much as a invitation into his cubicle. “I can’t believe it!” she cries. “You’re like _the_ blushing virgin.”

Kevin bites back some very sharp words and says only “Please leave.”

“Mmm…” Kevin can see her bra strap. “No. How far along are you?”

“I’m not pregnant. Please leave so I can work. That’s why we’re here, you know. To work.”

“Oh yeah, I know, but how _boring_ is it around here? It’s Friday, Price; loosen up! And _loosen up_ , if you know what I mean.”

Even his fiercest scowl isn’t enough to get this pest out of his space. Kevin is tired and frustrated, and he does _not_ want to be pregnant. He hates reminders of it, and every single reminder of his accumulating parenting leave comes from Stacia’s email. “I don’t think I do.”

“God, Price. What I _mean_ is that you’ve got such a stick up your ass it’s no wonder your husband can’t get his dick in there, too.”

“...excuse me?”

Stacia obviously doesn’t hear the warning in his voice - she never has _before_ ; why would he be so lucky now - and bats her fake eyelashes. “Are you actually that much of a prude?” she asks. “Get laid, Price, that’s what I’m saying. You have to have a kid eventually. At least get some _fun_ out of it.”

“Get out of my office.”

Stacia hops down and almost face-plants; her flashy heels weren’t made for textured carpet, that’s for sure.

“God, lighten up,” she throws over her shoulder. “Maybe you’d be nicer to work with if you let that man of yours f-”

Kevin stands. His hand is this close to grabbing Stacia’s wrist, _this close_ to yanking her around. He’s this close to- His phone rings.

The world snaps back into place.

Stacia waltzes out of his office in her high heels and gaudy makeup. Kevin gasps in her perfume. His back hits the far wall of his cubicle. His phone keeps ringing.

Otherwise, the world is quiet.

“ _Hey_ ,” Arnold says, when he picks up. “ _So I know you’re almost done, and it’s Friday, so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to, uh, go… out?_ ”

Kevin is having a hard time holding up the phone. Speaking is beyond his capability at the moment.

“ _Not like a date, really. Just, uh… there are some cool people I met kind of, um, recently, and I think you’d really like them. Plus, Chris’ husband is there! Or he’s gonna be. And we know he’s nice. Besides, I kind of wanna see him, just to see how big he_ actually _is. Is that weird? I just-_ ” Arnold giggles. “ _Chris is so tiny, I kind of think that maybe Connor is actually not that big, and he just… ‘cause his perspective, you know? But yeah, that’s a thing; it’s kind of like a dinner party, but not at somebody’s house. And there’s no alcohol or anything, so… I don’t actually know if that’s a good thing or not, but there you go._ ”

“...yeah,” Kevin answers.

“ _Wait, ‘yeah’?_ ” Arnold echoes. “ _You wanna go? Really?_ ”

“Um.” Everything is so surprisingly normal. Somehow, when Kevin imagined doing what his dad did, being what his dad was- it was more dramatic. But nobody saw. Nobody knows. The world moves on, and it doesn’t care that he almost- “Y-yeah, sure.”

“ _Hey, is something going on? You sound kinda…_ ”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” Kevin replies, straightening his tie. “Just… long day, you know?” He chuckles weakly, but so does Arnold.

“ _Yeah, okay_ ,” he says. “ _So, yes to the dinner thing?_ ”

The dinner thing. With people Kevin has never met, and no alcohol.

But Arnold sounds so excited. And, if he goes, Kevin won’t have lied to Stacia. Technically, that makes him the better person, because he didn’t actually lay hands on her. He won’t have sinned at all.

“Yes,” Kevin says, smiling. “That sounds great.”

* * *

 

Arnold grins and waves when he catches sight of Kevin in the parking lot of Outback. As rough as their relationship is, that enthusiastic greeting hasn’t gotten old. And, if Kevin thinks about it, he’s never seen anybody _else_ ’s husband greet them like that. It’s kind of their thing.

“Hi there,” he says, striding confidently to Arnold’s side. Without hesitating, Kevin loops his arm around Arnold’s shoulders and heads for the restaurant doors.

“Uh…”

“What’s the matter?” Kevin asks, smiling at him.

“This is new,” Arnold says. He looks a little red in the face. Though, it _is_ hot out.

Kevin says as much. “Come on, Arnold, it’s hot out here. I’m dying in this-” It’s his thinnest work shirt, but still, “-and we’re not too early, are we?”

“Nah, we’re not. Just…” Arnold tilts his head. “You look a little weird.”

“Well, gee, thanks.”

“No, like… pale. You sure you wanna do this?”

Kevin sighs a bit too loudly. “Yes, Arnold, I’m sure,” he replies lightly. “You told me it’s not a date, didn’t you? It’s not a big deal. And somebody at work said I needed to ‘lighten up,’ and _I_ told them I had plans, so… we’re doing this.”

Arnold isn’t given the chance to say no.

“Hi,” Kevin says to the hostess. He grins sunnily, and the way she lights up tells him he and Arnold are going to get some A+ service here. There _are_ perks to being good-looking. “We’re here with-”

“Oh, yes, right this way.”

Arnold waves sheepishly. “Hey, Tiffany.”

The hostess has already swept up two menus and started off down an aisle, but she turns back at that, black hair whipping over her shoulder. “Arnold! Hey, how’ve you been?”

“Uh, _good_ ,” he says. “And this, uh… this is Kevin.”

She smiles. Not a wait staff smile, like she gave Kevin; it’s _genuine_. Like she and Arnold are friends. “You didn’t lie at all,” she replies, teasingly. “He is a stunner.”

Kevin and Arnold simultaneously go red.

“So…” Kevin murmurs, keeping his arm firmly around Arnold’s shoulders as they follow Tiffany and her admittedly decent figure towards the back. “Do you come here often?”

“Y-yeah, this is… this dinner thing happens basically every Friday. And Tiffany usually works Friday nights, ‘cause they’re so busy and she gets lots of tips, so… yeah.”

Well, _that_ raises some questions. Namely:  _how many Fridays have you been seeing Tiffany?_ and _how many of those tips are from_ you _?_ But, more importantly- “What kind of a dinner is this?”

Arnold giggles. “Uh, well, y’know, it’s… it’s, uh…”

Tiffany bends forward far too seductively as she opens two glass doors. “Here you are,” she announces cheerily. “I’ll see you on the way out, Arnold.” And she _winks_. At Arnold.

Kevin knows his fingers are digging in too hard into Arnold’s shoulder, but it’s either that or-

Or _nothing_. He’s better than this.

“Thanks for bringing us out tonight,” Kevin says sweetly. “I think it’s _great_ we’re getting out, you know? Together, on a Friday night. That’s… it’s very _domestic_. Thank you, Arnold.”

Arnold gapes like a fish.

“Arnold Cunningham! It’s so good to see you! And- oh my, is this _Kevin_?” A beaming, red-headed man approaches from the end of a long, dark table. It’s almost completely full, and almost _everyone_ is smiling and waving at the two of them. No; at _Arnold_. Kevin is pretty darn sure at this point that Arnold has been to this dinner before. And it’s a weekly event. And Arnold certainly has met this man before. “I’m Connor McKinley,” he says in greeting, offering his hand.

Chris’ husband.

“Kevin Price,” Kevin says, grinning. “Nice to see Chris didn’t exaggerate at all.”

Connor chuckles, surprisingly high-pitched for a guy who probably had to stoop to get in the door frame. “Talks about me, does he? Too bad I can’t reciprocate.”

Kevin clutches Arnold a little closer. “Oh yeah?”

Connor nods. “Doctor-patient confidentiality, of course.” He gestures to the rest of the table. “He legally can’t come join us, unfortunately. But that’s all right; he handles the clinical side of things just fine. This is more my domain.”

Arnold and Kevin both still.

“Excuse me?”

Connor, who was heading back to his place, turns back with a politely curious look. “This support group,” he says. “For high-risk couples? Chris and I work in the same sort of field, but I never could go to school for that. He’s braver than I, that’s for sure. I’m in social work, mainly.”

Kevin blinks.

“I’m guessing Arnold didn’t tell you much, did he?” Connor laughs. Arnold does too, squeaky and obscenely loud. Kevin flinches. “Well. We all met at new couple orientation classes - I teach them over at the community college, for the Department of Matching - and this particular group just did so well we decided to make a continuing group out of it! We’re all friends here, though I _am_ the leader, by virtue of job title and all.”

“Yeah,” Kevin says, “Arnold didn’t mention any of this.”

“That’s just about it,” Connor answers brightly. “We meet on Fridays, here at Outback, and just- share stories and relax in similar company. It’s always nice to have people who can relate, isn’t it? No relationship is _perfect_ , but some people need a little more help than others, and- well, I think you’ll fit right in.”

“I don’t know about _that_ ,” Kevin says, hoping his smile doesn’t look deranged. His nails are so far dug into Arnold’s sleeve that he doesn’t expect the crescent-shaped dents to come out, now.

Arnold laughs - again - and shoves his arm off.

“Let’s sit down!” he yells. Connor grins beneficently.

Kevin numbly follows his husband’s lead.

Arnold brought them to a support group meeting. A _support group_. This whole room, they’re all high-risk couples; they all know he’s high-risk. They all know there’s something wrong with him. That’s the sort of meeting this is, for…

Everyone here _knows_.

Kevin settles into his chair like he’s made of glass, because he _feels_ like he could break any second. He told Arnold he would try, but this- this is too much. Kevin still thought…

Therapy. That’s secret. That’s confidential. You can say you’re going to a doctor’s appointment. That’s what Kevin told his work; he needs time off for medical reasons. But this. Sure, he can do what Arnold did and say it’s a dinner party. But it’s a dinner party with other couples whose marriages are a mess, whose _lives_ are a mess. If they’re anything like Arnold and Kevin, the laughter and polite chatter exchanged across the wooden table are a cover for brutal words and bruising feelings, the exact _opposite_ of what the matching system was supposed to give. Kevin looks around. Everybody here looks happy, somehow, but they can’t be. Everyone here is lying, just like him.

And everybody here knows it.

 

Kevin’s view around the table is through a fractured pane of glass. Sharp-edged, distorted, and too- too bright. He feels drunk, but without the laughter. Intoxicated, disoriented, out of control, but not happy to be that way. He didn’t choose it. It’s happening whether he wants it or not. Because Arnold said he was taking him out for dinner. Because Stacia couldn’t keep her poisonous words to herself. Because Kevin marked down the wrong answers on a test and now he’s _here_ , now this is his life- now he’s stuck in a kaleidoscope of laughing people he knows are broken on the inside. People like him, reflected around and around, filling every seat in the back room of Outback. Maybe it’s more like a broken mirror, then, than transparent glass. Himself and Arnold, one then the other, in every seat, and Chris’ husband who knows _everything_ , smiling at the head of the table.

Kevin tells Arnold to order for him.

“Isn’t that precious?” somebody whispers. “Look at them.” _Look at them. They’re better at pretending than we are. Why can’t you be more like them?_

* * *

 

“So, what’d you think?” Arnold asks. “They’re nice, right?”

“Yeah,” Kevin says. They’re on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. “Yeah, that was just fine.”

“Kevin?”

Arnold is a few steps ahead. He’s turned; he’s looking back at Kevin. There’s something in his expression; something about his eyes.

“Are they watching?” Kevin asks, walking towards him.

“I dunno, uh- is who watching?”

It doesn’t matter. They were watching. There are people around. Somebody will see. Kevin grabs the front of Arnold’s shirt and pulls him in.

“Kevin-”

Kevin kisses him in front of Outback. It’s hard; it’s painful. Kevin kisses him until he can’t breathe, and then he realizes Arnold’s been trying to shove him away.

Kevin wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and it comes away smeared with blood. He must have bit his lip, or- or Arnold’s.

“I’ll meet you back at the apartment,” he says, and shoves past Arnold to the car.

* * *

 

Kevin stops at the grocery store. He’s not sure what he’s doing there; he idly pushes a cart down the aisles until he finds himself face to face with a six pack of Bud Light. He turns around and walks away. But he comes back, after throwing a few unnecessary things in the cart. Some Doritos, mouthwash, a bag of lemons, a box of pads. He doesn’t need any of it. Kevin pushes the cart purposefully down the row, past all the drinks, until he sees one of the four pack of mini wines. They’re the size of something you find in an upscale hotel mini fridge. He reaches for a pink cardboard tray of white wine and tosses it in the cart.

The restrooms are in the exact opposite corner of the store. He heads there, striding confidently, smoothly. No one tries to stop him. No one stays in his way.

He stops the cart outside the bathroom. It’s almost nine on a Friday night, and there’s not a damn soul here.

Kevin makes a grab for one of the little bottles and ducks into the furthest stall. He downs it in one breath; it’s rosy pink and mild, but it’s still something to drink. It’s more than he’s had in a long time. It’s enough to do the trick.

He tosses the bottle in the restroom trash; he strides out of the store empty-handed. But he’s smiling, mostly for real, now. He just… needed something to take the edge off. That’s all.

That’s all.

* * *

 

“So, what’s been going on?” Chris asks. “You two look like your dog died.” He gasps. “You don’t have a dog, do you? Wow, that was really insensitive of me.”

“We don’t have a dog,” Arnold replies glumly. “Nobody died.”

“Then why the long faces?”

Kevin and Arnold glance towards each other for a fraction of a second. Then, like repelling magnets, they both look away.

“What happened?” Chris asks, slowly.

“We… went to a thing last night,” Arnold starts. “Dinner.”

Chris’ eyes widen.

“Yeah,” Kevin adds. “A _thing_. A _support group_ thing, run by your husband.”

The way Chris’ face lights up makes Kevin want to vomit.

“Hey, that’s- was that what happened?”

Arnold shakes his head. “That part was fine,” he says.

Kevin looks over, aghast.

“But then, _after_ …”

“Arnold didn’t tell me what it was,” Kevin interrupts. “So, _that_ , and, afterwards, I kissed him. And when we went home, I-” Kevin swallows. “I came onto him, and he pushed me away. That was what happened.”

“...that sounds like progress,” Chris ventures. “How come you didn’t receive it that way, Arnold?”

“...he was drunk.”

Kevin jerks away. “I was not!”

“Oh yeah?” Arnold snaps. “So you didn’t grab a drink between dinner and home? So you _weren’t_ acting weird at dinner?”

“Arnold,” Chris says, “lower your voice.”

“I wasn’t _drunk_ ,” Kevin replies. “I was never drunk yesterday.”

“I could taste it, Kevin. When… at the apartment. Why did you do that, Kevin? I _said_ I wouldn’t touch you, and you…” Arnold turns away, arms wrapped around his body in an imitation hug, but it’s too late. Kevin already saw his eyes fill.

“Kevin,” Chris says. He has the nerve to sound like Kevin’s _dad_ , like he’s about to give a lecture, and Kevin- Kevin stands.

“Look,” he says, “Arnold didn’t say a goddamn _word_ about what sort of dinner we were going to. I didn’t want to go in the first place; I only went because I told somebody I had plans. Then Arnold goes and _springs_ that on me? A support group meeting. And you’re gonna blame me for wanting a drink?”

Kevin whirls on Arnold now. “That’s how you found Chris, isn’t it,” he realizes. “You… from Connor. You said you’d never met him before, and you- you _lied_!”

“Why did you tell someone you were going out, Kevin”

Kevin stumbles to a halt. “What?”

“Did someone hit on you?” Chris continues.

“No!”

“I didn’t think you were the type to lie about plans. Did something happen there?”

Kevin doesn’t look at Arnold at all.

“There was somebody at work,” he admits. “She… she was _annoying_ , that’s all.”

Chris waits. Kevin is determined to keep from talking - what happened between he and Stacia needs to _stay_ that way - but the silence doesn’t sit well. It fits like a hand-me-down sweater, worn in all the wrong places.

“She just- she said some stuff. It was irritating, and she has _no_ concept of personal space, and-” Kevin ducks his head; a moment of weakness. “She asked- no, she teased me about not getting pregnant. She said I had such a stick up my ass it’s no wonder-”

He’s said too much.

“What did you do?” Chris asks evenly.

“Nothing!” Kevin yells. “Wh- what do you mean?”

“How did you react?” Chris reiterates. “It seems like it was an agitating situation.”

“She left,” Kevin replies. “I didn’t do anything.”

He makes the mistake of looking Arnold’s way; Arnold’s face says _I don’t believe you_.

“Okay, you wanna know what happened yesterday?” Kevin asks. “My coworker was stupid. The support group pissed me off. I got a drink before I went home. But I was _completely_ sober for the dinner, and I _wasn’t drunk_ afterwards. It was six ounces of white whine; I can’t get drunk off a frickin’ rosé!”

There’s too much desperation in his voice, and Kevin knows it.

“It was just to take the edge off, Arnold. I wasn’t trying to get smashed. I thought you would _want_ to, to- or else I wouldn’t have tried it. And, Arnold- we have to have kids _someday_. You know that.”

Arnold won’t look at him. The room is silent in the wake of Kevin’s words.

Then, Chris speaks. “You don’t, though,” he says. “Do you.”

Kevins stiffens. Paper slaps against Chris’ clipboard as he lets their file close.

“Arnold, could you step out for a moment?” Chris asks mildly.

“What?” Arnold looks between them, eyes wide. “Do I have to?”

Chris slowly extricates himself from his armchair, and goes to open the door. It’s as clear a dismissal as Kevin has ever seen, but Arnold still looks lost as he shuffles out.  

The latch clicks. Chris meets Kevin’s gaze.

“The exemption,” Kevin says. The space between them strains to hold the weight of those words, but it’s too fragile. It’s going to snap.

“How long have you been married?” Chris asks, going to scoop up his clipboard again. Kevin wants to snap it in half. “Ten months?” He skims the top sheet. “Nope; ten and a half. You’re running out of time.”

“I-” Kevin’s hands are in fists.

“Kevin, may I say something?”

Kevin barks a laugh.

“You called your apartment ‘home’ twice during this session alone,” Chris shares. “You kissed him, sober. And, your reasons for it may not have been what he wants, but you did try to sleep with him. Do you know what that tells me?”

Chris comes closer, silently demanding Kevin acknowledge him.

“It tells me you want to keep things from changing. You love what you have, or where you’re going. Enough that the mockery of a co-worker was motivation for you to ask Arnold for intimacy. You overcame your sexual hangups for that, Kevin. That tells me you don’t want the exemption anymore.”

“...I can’t be a father,” Kevin replies. “I- not with him. Not now. I don’t know how.”

“Kevin, you will never know how.”

Kevin turns his head so fast the world spins. But not Chris’ gaze; his eyes are blue and steady and so utterly _calm_ , considering his words are gripping the split edges of Kevin’s soul. They’re tearing him apart. “You will _never_ know everything you want to know. You can’t control what you don’t know, you can’t keep yourself from making mistakes, and you can’t control others to make what you want happen.”

“I have to,” Kevin says. He’s fighting a losing battle. It’s a lost cause. He knows it; Chris is right, but- “I have to.”

“You can’t,” Chris repeats. “And you don’t. There are people who will love you when you fail, Kevin. I promise.”

“Who?” It’s a cry, desperate and ringing in Kevin’s ears, but he knows. God, he _knows_.

His hands release their fists. The taut cords running up his arms, his neck, his head, are cut. That energy, wasted. He has nothing he can do, nothing tension can brace him for.

After a minute, Chris presses a card in his hands.

“I’m getting induced on Wednesday,” he informs Kevin. “I can’t do sessions for two weeks afterwards, and it’ll be Skype only for a few months. This is the last I’ll see of you for a while.”

“What? N- you can’t, we- I need to know what to do. We’re almost out of _time_.”

Chris smiles in that awful, understanding way he has. Kevin might scream.

“You don’t need me for that,” Chris says. “It’s up to you, Kevin. It’s your decision. Are you going to take the exemption’s way out, or do you want the life you’re making with Arnold?”

“I don’t know,” Kevin answers. It’s not an answer; he needs an answer. “I don’t know!”

Chris squeezes his hand as he shakes it farewell. “It’s time to decide,” he says. “Good luck.”

* * *

 

Kevin sits Arnold down that night and tells him about the exemption.

“No baby by the day we got married, or we’re considered genetically incompatible,” he says. He can’t look up from the table. “For the government, it counts as grounds for annulment.”

Arnold doesn’t say a word, and Kevin can’t read anything on his face.

“I found out before I even met you, okay?” he says. “This- I didn’t even know your name.”

Arnold nods. Otherwise, he’s not responding, and that’s cutting down on Kevin’s options. He can’t react if he doesn’t know what Arnold is _thinking_. He’s about a step in any direction from saying the wrong thing and taking a plunge off this fragile, unstable safe place they’ve made together. His only chance is guessing. Kevin hates guessing.

But Arnold- Kevin knows what Arnold wants. What has he wanted this whole time? It’s not like he’s tried to hide it. Kevin can’t say what Arnold wants, though. He can’t even imagine. ‘ _I want to jump you right now; put a baby in me and let’s stay together forever._ ’ What if he _actually_ -? Hysterical laughter bubbles up behind Kevin’s clenched teeth.

“You said we were gonna try this,” Arnold says suddenly. Kevin sees a glove thrown out on the drawbridge of their kitchen table. It’s a challenge; that laughter almost slips out after all. It really is time to decide.

“You said you’d give us a shot, but because you didn’t-” Arnold shoves his chair back. “So this is it,” he says. “Should I go pack my stuff or something?”

“No!” The wood of the table, the drawbridge, is smooth and warm under Kevin’s palms, but that doesn’t make it less of a divider. “Arnold, I-”

“I know you didn’t want it the first time. I know that’s why we didn’t… why you drank. I’m not selfish enough to think it was all ‘cause I’m that awful.”

Arnold isn’t laughing. He always laughs, he _always_ -

“I get it. But it still hurts, okay?” Arnold says. He’s sniffling; he looks defeated. He gets up, and heads to the bedroom. And Kevin knows what’s going to happen. He’ll go in there, and lock the door. Kevin will be left to the couch and his job and his life, alone; Arnold is going to make this decision for him.

“Arnold, wait.”

They’re at an impasse. Kevin: frightened and desperate and indecisive and weak. Arnold: finally, _finally_ ready to give up.

“Sleep with me?”

It’s a gift, and a risk. It’s surrender and a roll of the dice. It stops Arnold in his tracks.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” Kevin continues. “I can’t promise- but we can try this, we can… we have a month and a half. I won’t force it. I’m not going to take fertility supplements on anything. And we won’t… um. We won’t do anything unless it feels right. But if I’m pregnant by the end, then…”

There. Kevin doesn’t have to decide. His body will do it for him; if he’s meant to be here, doing this, living with Arnold, then it’ll take. If it doesn’t… Kevin gets his second chance.

Arnold meets his gaze. His eyes are narrowed and hard. Kevin tries to look pleading.

“Kevin…” he starts. His tone is the opposite of encouraging. But then he sighs; his shoulders drop like stones. “Okay.”

Kevin’s heart is pounding out of his chest. “Tonight?”

Arnold shrugs.

Kevin nods, sharply. “I’ll… get ready,” he says.

Arnold disappears into the bedroom.

* * *

 

Kevin finds Arnold naked from the waist down when he walks in. He’s lying down on their Target-found bedspread; his knees are up and his legs are open wide. His hand is on his dick.

Kevin averts his eyes in a second, more from habit than shame.

“You can look,” Arnold says. “Not much to see, but… I do this enough anyway, when you’re not here.”

Kevin’s cheeks burn.

“Just thought you should know.”

He isn’t the one naked, but Kevin feels like he might as well be. Seeing Arnold like that makes _him_ feel exposed. His butt is cold and damp, even with pants on; he cleaned himself out as well as he could in the guest bathroom. Maybe it wasn’t good enough, though. Kevin doesn’t feel truly clean.

But this is going to be awkward no matter what. It won’t matter how prepared Kevin is.

“How long as you gonna stand there?” Arnold asks.

Kevin’s been staring. He tears his eyes from Arnold’s dick and his rhythmically-pumping hand, and strips off his own clothes.

“You got thinner.” Arnold’s hand stills. “Kevin, you’ve been eating, right?”

Kevin glances down at himself. “I didn’t think I was at risk for an eating disorder,” he mutters dryly. “Did I miss that on the list? Or did you learn about it in one of your classes?”

“Kevin stop. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How come you’re worried, then?”

There’s a mirror in here, spanning the bedroom door. Kevin can see his whole profile in it. It’d be nicer if he couldn’t.

“I’m not that thin,” he says.

“...no,” Arnold admits. He looks away. “Sorry.”

Kevin lets the stale air of their bedroom fill his lungs. It smells like two people and their sweat.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You’ve got plenty to worry about already, don’t you?”

He makes his way to the bed. Arnold’s hand is moving again, so before he can over think Kevin reaches out to stop it. He climbs on top of Arnold; Arnold looks up at him. They’re close enough this way for Kevin to feel his breath. Not just the damp heat of it on his face, either, but against his body, as their chests rise and fall. Kevin isn’t breathing as hard as Arnold is.

Here is where Kevin’s imagination stopped. He never got farther than this in detail before.

“You don’t have to,” he whispers.

A line creases between Arnold’s eyebrows.

“Worry,” Kevin adds.

Arnold does, though, and they both know it. Because Kevin can’t take care of himself. Because their therapist is out of contact for weeks now. Because their marriage hangs from a month and a half of awkward sex, fragile hope for a baby, and the weak refrain: _I’m trying_. Kevin is, he _is_ trying, but he’s not sure how long he can, or what good it’ll do.

Kevin doesn’t say that, though. He braces a hand on Arnold’s black-haired chest, leans in, and kisses him.

It feels like an apology.

So Kevin tries again, then again, then a fourth time, and none of them feel like… sex. None of them get his blood racing, none of them-

He rests his forehead against his husband’s and sighs, frustrated.

“Gosh,” he says. “I, I don’t-”

But Arnold’s hand cups his cheek, brushing Kevin’s chest on its way up. Kevin shivers.

Arnold opens his mouth, but he must change his mind because in the next breath he’s surging up, taking Kevin’s mouth. A sound of muffled surprise escapes, then Kevin kisses back.

A rhythm builds between them, slowly, clumsily; they haven’t kissed like this before. But when Arnold’s other hand sweeps down the tensed muscles of Kevin’s stomach and cups between his legs, Kevin moans. He’s hard.

“Told you I’d make it better,” Arnold mumbles.

Kevin frowns. He can’t place the words, until- _I’ll make it better next time, I promise_.

“Oh,” he says, except Arnold made it a sigh; his hand isn’t just cupping now. “Arnold…”

Arnold hums a neutral acknowledgement just as his lips find the edge of Kevin’s jaw. It half tickles, half lights up the nerves under Kevin’s skin like a tree on Christmas morning. Arnold looks very satisfied at the way Kevin’s face flushes. He must feel it, too, because his palm still rests against Kevin’s cheek. This is more than they’ve ever touched before. And Arnold _is_ better: he’s better than he was, and he’s better than Kevin’s fantasies. Kevin could never imagine the way Arnold’s teeth skim the skin of his neck where it stretches to his jaw, or the feeling of Arnold’s mouth on his collarbone. He couldn’t even conjure up the kisses, mouth on mouth, tongue on tongue.

Kevin has long since found Arnold’s dick; he jacks him as best he can with Arnold taking him apart. They move slow, both of them, but to Kevin that just makes it embarrassingly intimate. Cautious, yes, but… it’s not awkward.

“Wait,” Kevin murmurs, leaning back on his knees. Arnold’s lips are sinfully red with all the blood Kevin brought to the surface. “You need to…” Kevin gestures _down_.

Arnold’s eyes follow the wave of his hand, then light up in understanding.

“Get off for a second,” he says, already leaning over towards the nightstand. There’s a familiar bottle in there, clean and unlabeled, but now it’s half empty.

“You used that much?” Kevin asks, curious.

Arnold’s gaze stays fully trained on the drops he’s squeezing out as he answer: “It’s not my fault you’re smoking hot.”

A fresh wave of heat smacks Kevin; his whole body flushes, from head to toe to rosy cock, standing out proudly between his legs.

“Because of me?” he ventures. His unoccupied hands creep along the curve of his hips, towards that cock. It’s a little more needy after hearing that.

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Arnold answers. “What’d you think?”

A parade of faceless girls flashes through Kevin’s mind. And, there _was_ that note on Arnold’s sexuality.

“I was gone a while,” Kevin says, ducking his head. “And, before…”

“Woah, Kevin, look-” Arnold struggles a second to sit up. “I wouldn’t cheat on you,” he says, their gazes locking and holding firm. “I don’t care how long we didn’t- I wouldn’t have an affair, okay?”

“Thinking about somebody else isn’t the same as an affair,” Kevin mutters.

“Oh. Uh, I didn’t do much of that either.”

 _Much_. But Kevin doesn’t have room to talk.

“Really?” he asks.

Arnold huffs. “I’m not lying every time I say you’re crazy hot,” he says. “I don’t really _need_ to think about anybody else.”

Kevin has to look away. He swallows, and starts to reach out for the lube.

“What about you?”

Kevin closes his eyes.

“...it’s okay it wasn’t me,” Arnold says. From the corner of his eye, Kevin sees him fold his arms, then grimace and move his still lube-covered hand away. “I mean, I, uh…” Arnold tugs at the folded-back sheet beneath them to wipe at the back of his arm. “I’m not exactly a-”

“It was you.” Through gritted teeth, Kevin elaborates: “I thought about you.”

Arnold laughs.

For a second, Kevin can’t believe that Arnold would _laugh_ at him for a confession like that, but the laugh peaks, sharp and high, and starts to taper off. Kevin doesn’t take it back, and Arnold very abruptly stops.

“What.”

“Look, let’s just-” Kevin starts. But he doesn’t want to just ‘get it over with.’ He wants to stop talking, that’s all, and- and get on with it. Arnold’s mouth is open, in shock or because he’s got something else to say, but Kevin covers it with his own anyway. He’s tired of talking, he’s tired of being embarrassed, and he doesn’t feel anything but good when they’re kissing; _really_ kissing.

Arnold’s palm smacks his arm - now Kevin is the one sticky with lube - but he kisses back, and in a moment that slick, wet hand is wrapping around Kevin’s cock and _good_ is all he can feel.

“You don’t even like me,” Arnold gasps. That’s not fair; Kevin isn’t even touching him, except for his hand in Arnold’s hair. Arnold doesn’t get to gasp like that.

“I like you enough for this,” Kevin replies. “That’s-”

What it is, Kevin doesn’t get the chance to explain, because Arnold makes this _sound_ and Kevin’s hips buck against him.

“C’mon,” Kevin mutters. “You have to-” He’s not going to last much longer. He takes Arnold’s hand from around his cock and moves it lower. “Come on,” he repeats, because he can’t vocalize what Arnold needs to do. He can’t tell Arnold to spread him open with his fingers; he can take it. He can’t tell Arnold he’s been practicing. He can’t tell Arnold he craves the feeling of being full like he does bitter black coffee or the brush of snowflakes whipped across his bare skin in winter: it’s all too much, too painful, and he needs that. He can only tell Arnold to come on, to go, to _move_.

Arnold does.

His fingers find the tense muscles Kevin guided him to, and for a minute it’s familiar in the worst way. But Kevin makes himself breath through it. When he opens his eyes again, Arnold has gone still. They’ve both paused, hovering; Kevin above him and his hand _there_.

“You good?” Arnold asks. His voice cracks.

Kevin nods and kisses him again. It’s easier than answering.

* * *

 

Kevin’s body aches in the end. His thighs burn from riding his husband, and his ass still feels stretched around Arnold’s cock, even as he climbs off and slumps to the mattress. And the slick feeling of come makes him feel defiled and used. But Arnold smiles at him, eyes unfocused and all blissed out from his orgasm, even when Kevin turns his head from Arnold’s kiss.

“I’m going to get cleaned up,” Kevin mutters, moving to climb out of bed.

Both his muscles and Arnold disagree, though; Kevin falls back with a groan, and Arnold’s hand comes to rest on his arm.

“Stay?” Arnold whispers.

Kevin feels gross, all sweat-soaked and tacky with lube. The longer he waits, the better the chance Arnold’s seed will take (he wants to scrub it out, he thinks), but… Arnold’s hand is warm. And Kevin is tired.

“...fine,” he sighs. He lets his muscles go slack and Arnold beams. He doesn’t avoid the kiss, this time.

* * *

 

But reality sets in as the afterglow fades. Kevin’s thoughts pick up speed as his breathing evens out, and he’s left with a sharply focused view of their bedroom ceiling, in the dark heat of the late night post-sex time.

He and Arnold just had sex. They could have a baby. They could have made a baby just now, and Kevin has never felt so unstable in his life.

“Do you know what having a baby _means_ , Arnold?” he asks, “It means… play dates, and preschool, and, and diaper changes and spit-up and no sleeping through the night. It means… I won’t be able to drink. Gosh, not even _coffee_.” The heels of his hands settle in the hollows of his eyes.  “That’s not all, even. It means telling that kid they’ve only got one set of grandparents to see around the holidays. It… we’re gonna have to sit down with them and explain I’m high risk, all the diseases and disorders they could get that’ll keep them from getting matched.” Kevin sighs. A boulder sits on his chest and keeps air from replacing it, and it _hurts_. “Are we ready for that, Arnold?”

Arnold rolls over on his side to face him.

“We don’t have to be,” he whispers. “That’s years away.”

A little more air slips into Kevin’s lungs, and then-

“They’ve gotta at least learn to _talk_ , first.”

It all goes whooshing out in a soundless laugh.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Arnold promises.

Kevin’s turns his head. “What if it doesn’t work?” he asks, meeting Arnold’s gaze as best he can in the dark. “Will it be okay then?”

Arnold doesn’t respond.

“If this- if our marriage…” Kevin wrestles with the right words. “Can we still be friends, if this doesn’t work?”  
Arnold just watches him.

“Or, or _talk_? Get coffee, at least? I don’t know, Arnold.”

But then Arnold answers. “Yeah,” he says softly. “We can get coffee.”

Kevin makes himself breathe past the wave of painful relief. Without his family, he doesn’t have many… _anyone_ left. And Arnold, everything between them aside, is a good guy. They’ve been through a lot, and, and Chris said Arnold would- he’ll _care_ anyway, even if they don’t… if Kevin can’t…

“You’ll introduce me to your new match, right?” he pushes. “We- we can have stupid, formal, adult dinner parties. With wine. Except I won’t be able to drink it. Neither will your… spouse.”

It fall flat and heavy in the few inches between them. Kevin forget he’d have to carry for whoever he’s stuck with. His hand comes to rest on the flat plane of his abdomen.

“Sure, Kev,” Arnold whispers. He takes that hand, folding it in his own. “I think there’s, like, alcohol-free stuff we could get instead.”

Kevin smiles. “Grape juice,” he replies. “But you’d do that?”

Arnold nods. “Yeah.”

“...thanks.”

* * *

 

Things aren’t better. Not boldly, or blatantly. But there’s something a little bit softer about the way they shove each other away from the bathroom sink in the mornings. Arnold dares to make a “honey, I’m home!” joke one day, and Kevin only makes him give up the remote for the week. When Arnold smiles at Kevin, Kevin smiles back.

What really tells Kevin that things have shifted is the day Arnold shows up at his work with a hot, home-cooked - but actually _good_ \- lunch.

“You’re definitely a better cook than me,” Kevin declares, shoving more grilled chicken in his mouth. “So you’re gonna host that dinner party, okay?”

He realizes, mid-bite, than maybe he shouldn’t have brought up that dark, whispered, post-orgasm conversation in his florescent light-bathed cubicle.

But Arnold laughs that high-pitched laugh, and Kevin doesn’t even mind.

“You’d probably make boxed mac and cheese,” he teases, nudging Kevin’s arm with his knee. He’s perched on Kevin’s desk; Kevin sits in the chair. Somehow, it’s not irritating at all.

But twenty minutes pass quickly; twenty, because Arnold has his own job to head to and he’s already going to be late.

“Well, _thanks_ ,” Kevin tells Arnold as he hops down. “That was really great of you.”

Arnold shrugs and grins up at Kevin. “No big deal,” he says. “I’ll, uh…” He jerks a thumb towards the exit. “See you later.”

“Hey, wait-” Kevin grabs his arm. In the next moment, Kevin is kissing him. In the one after, he’s not. Arnold blinks up at him, mouth hanging open. Then Kevin is watching his back as Arnold scurries out the main door.

The kiss was light, and Kevin can still taste garlic on his breath from lunch. But his mouth tingles, and as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand Stacia appears, smirking wickedly over her stack of paperwork.

“How ‘bout it, Price? Got something you want to share with your favorite HR rep?”

Kevin walks back to his chair without a word.

* * *

 

He’s on his back when he feels it. He’s looking up at Arnold; Arnold’s face is slack and he’s still breathing hard. Kevin’s legs are hooked around his torso, heels locked at the small of his back. There’s nothing between them but silence and Kevin’s come drying on their skin. Kevin is warm and slick and full, the way he’s gotten used after he and Arnold started doing this.

But something is unmistakably different. What…

Kevin tenses, then relaxes; it draws a broken moan out of Arnold. Nothing hurts, though, except in that sore, stretched, after-sex way. It’s not pain he’s feeling. No, it’s…

“Kev…” Arnold whispers. His shaky, stubby fingers brush the hair off Kevin’s forehead, and Kevin suddenly feels the warmth of his own hand splayed across his stomach. It’s then that he knows. “You all right?”

Kevin nods, does his best to smile, and gives Arnold a peck on the lips. It doesn’t do much. Arnold’s brow is still furrowed with ugly lines, but Kevin can’t bring himself to comfort him. He simply lies there as Arnold withdraws and goes to fetch a washcloth from the bathroom to wipe them down, silent with realization.

 _It’s a carrier thing_ , that woman said, back in rehab. _You just know._

You just know.

* * *

 

He’s scaring Arnold, he knows. The brief time of touches, smiles, and- Kevin can’t do it. Sex is impossible with the absolute uncertainty hanging over him. He has to wait two weeks to take a pregnancy test, and every moment of it is like hot water on a sunburn. The worst part is seeing children, all shapes and sizes: they’re suddenly everywhere. Their laughs and whines and chatters echo in Kevin’s ears until he thinks he’s going to cry. But that could just be hormones. Maybe. _Maybe_. He doesn’t _actually_ know. It’s scientifically impossible for Kevin to be able to tell.

But Kevin knows as sure as anything in his life that he conceived that night. He’s pregnant; he’s carrying Arnold’s baby. In nine months…

Kevin refuses to think nine months ahead, because for now he’s got two weeks that move slower than the line for lunch at work. He should know - he’s in it every day.

Arnold hasn’t come by again.

* * *

 

Kevin thought it would be more embarrassing than it is to buy a pregnancy test. Walgreens is empty, and everything goes just fine until the cashier starts grinning at him at the checkout.

“Good luck,” she warbles, “and congratulations.”

Kevin smiles politely and shoves the pregnancy test and a bag of Ghiradelli chocolate further down the counter. A car just pulled up outside, and he wants to get out of here. He really has to get out of here.

There’s a reward program, though, even at Walgreens, and the woman behind the counter is at least seventy years old. Her frail fingers tap daintily, and slowly, at the keys of the register. Kevin reevaluates: she’s got to be eighty.

“She’s a lucky lady.”

“What?”

“Most men your age aren’t sensitive enough to know what a woman wants,” she says. She winks, nods towards the chocolate, and takes her hands off the keyboard to tap a finger to the side of her nose conspiratorially. “Those hormones can really do a number on a gal.”

“...yes, yeah, that…”

“You’re a good husband.”

Kevin slaps down a twenty, grabs his stuff, and runs.

* * *

 

It’s probably a bad sign that Arnold doesn’t look away from the TV when Kevin makes a beeline for the master bath. But Kevin has bigger problems.

It’s 10:13 PM. Kevin is now three and a half raspberry-chocolate squares down. The path from the window to the bathroom threshold is one he’s traced enough times he doesn’t remember when he started. The timer on his phone has seven minutes left.

The test is going to be positive. Kevin knows it will. It can’t be anything but. Still, though… what if it isn’t?

Kevin licks raspberry goop from his fingers and reaches for chocolate number five. The shining wrapper slips in his spitty grip, so Kevin tears it with his teeth. What _if_ … did Kevin make his decision without realizing? He stops, the corner of his confection melting against his tongue.

Does he _want_ to be pregnant?

 _No_. No. Absolutely not. Not in a million years. Kevin is an oldest child: he’s watched his m- his… his siblings’ mother go through this. He’s seen her morning sickness, her back aches and weight gain; her bloating and gas and mood swings and fatigue and _misery_. He wants no part of it.

But does he want to stay married to Arnold?

The timer has five minutes now.

Does he, though? Chris says he has to, to want this exemption off the table, but Kevin doesn’t know if he wants that, either.

That’s it. Kevin doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what he wants. He hasn’t known from the first time Arnold kissed him at their pitiful little courthouse wedding. He just doesn’t _know_. That’s what’s so awful about waiting for this test, because _however_ he feels, the result will tell him. If he’s happy about it - he’s happy. If not… if whatever he sees makes him sick to his stomach, that means he wants the opposite of whatever the test says. He’ll be back to suffocating in his own skin and stuffing enough sugar in his mouth to make his faint, hovering nausea a problem.

Three minutes. Minutes left until the course of his life is decided for him. Minutes left. Is he thinking ‘only’ or ‘still’? Only minutes left, or _still_?

Kevin grabs another square of chocolate and hates himself for it. For all of this; everything about this situation. He hates the wound-up tightness radiating through his skull, and the ache of his feet as he paces. He hates how late it is. He hates how slowly time passes.

Two minutes. Kevin stops. A laugh track from Arnold’s TV show sounds from the other side of the bedroom wall. Those people aren’t laughing at him. They’re _not_. But… Kevin glances through the bathroom door. He can’t see anything from here.

The ghostly voices laugh again, and that’s it. Cramming his mouth full of raspberry and sixty percent cacao, Kevin crosses the bathroom threshold. He approaches the pregnancy test with what he tells himself are firm strides and scoops it off the plasticy white counter.

A plus sign. There’s a plus sign, he’s almost completely sure of it. His hands are quaking but he- he can see it, that’s a plus sign. It’s positive.

He’s pregnant.

There’s three tests in the box. Two are positive; one, he didn’t pee on right. Kevin tosses them in the sink and slumps onto the closed lid of the toilet. His head is heavy in his hands.

He’s pregnant. _Pregnant_. And it doesn’t change how he feels at all.

* * *

 

“I want to go out to dinner.”

Arnold makes a face. “But I’m already in comfy clothes…”

Kevin huffs. “Not tonight,” he answers, sitting in the living room armchair. Arnold is on the couch; it’s about as far apart as they can get while being in the same room. “In… two weeks.”

Arnold mutes the TV. It’s that stupid show he’s always watching, with the laugh track.

“That’s our anniversary.”

Kevin’s eyes stay on the characters in awful jean jackets and 90s hair prancing across the screen. “That’s right,” he replies.

“Is it gonna be a goodbye dinner, or do you have a surprise for me?”

Kevin twitches before he can stop himself. He can’t… early pregnancies are dangerous. There’s no guarantee the baby will make it to the second trimester. Most carriers wait for months to tell even their spouses, in case that happens. Nobody likes getting their hopes up for nothing. But the exemption deadline falls before the one month mark, by two days. Sharing this information isn’t an option, even though most people don’t know for themselves at this point. Most people aren’t on a race against time.

Kevin shrugs.

“Kevin, buddy, is this…” Arnold trails off. Kevin _refuses_ to look over.

The actress he sees now has on the most hideous red top he’s ever seen. How can Arnold watch this crap?

“Did you just… give up?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. You-”

“I made reservations for the twenty-eighth,” Kevin interrupts. The exemption date is the twenty-ninth. “So don’t make any plans.”

Arnold doesn’t answer for a while. Out of the corner of his eye, Kevin sees his hand clasp the remote again. The sound clicks back on, and it’s that damn laugh track.

Kevin stands, ready to retreat.

“...what time?” Arnold asks. Now it’s he who can’t look away from the flickering screen.

“Six o’clock,” Kevin replies. The laugh track follows him as he makes his escape.

* * *

 

Kevin doesn't know what happens to the time after he takes the test. It's all hazy and undefined, slipping through his fingers like the money he finds himself spending on pre-natal vitamins. And anti-nausea pills. And chocolate.

He goes to work, sure, and he and Arnold still watch TV together sometimes, but every other thought has to do with his pregnancy. It's hard to get stuff done. Before he knows it, it's the night before the day before their anniversary. In less than twenty-four hours, Arnold will know. In... fifteen hours, actually. Kevin made the reservation for six, and he intends to tell Arnold the second they sit down. The secret isn't much of a secret, he thinks, what with how snuck past Arnold with the vitamin label only obscured by the thin film of a grocery bag. But Arnold hasn’t said a word.

It’s a little past three in the morning. Kevin is sweating like he’s run a 400 meter sprint. It’s dark and hot and he can’t sleep, and Arnold- Arnold doesn’t want to talk to him.

So Kevin gets up. At least there’s ice water in the kitchen. He heads there, blindly pawing at the walls to get there without getting hurt. He bangs his toe into a corner anyway, though; Kevin hates this hour of the night.

Nothing feels real, that’s for sure. Not the cabinet he smacks into; not the glass he pulls from it. His balance is awful. The ice maker is too loud.

“What are you doing up?”

Kevin turns, and cold water from the fridge splashes all over his hand. Arnold is sitting at the kitchen table.

“Wh- where- how did you get here?” Kevin stammers. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Yeah, me too. About you. You didn’t answer my question.”

Kevin looks back at his half-empty cup of ice water, and pushes it back under the water’s stream. “Getting water. I was hot. Why are you out here?”

“Ah, I dunno. I haven’t been sleeping, really.”

Kevin stops. The water doesn’t. “What? For how long?”

“...about a month.”

“A month! What the heck, Arnold? You didn’t… you should’ve _told_ me.” The water is spilling again. “How come?”

“How come what?”

Kevin rolls his eyes. “How come you didn’t… say anything?” He brings the cup to his lips and drinks. Arnold fiddles with his glasses and doesn’t look up.

“What did you want me to say?”  

“Oh, I don’t know, Arnold. Maybe ‘I haven’t been sleeping well.’”

“Why?”

“Why? Because that’s a really long time to not sleep!”

“It’s not a constant thing, Kevin. Geez, it’s not like I’m running on sleep from weeks ago. It’s just…”

Kevin waits, but Arnold tugs off his glasses and rubs his eyes and doesn’t keep talking. Absently, Kevin thinks it’s funny he’s reached a day where he wants Arnold to talk _more_.

“It’s just what?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, it does. Spill.”

“It’s three in the morning, Kev. Drink your water and go back to bed.”

“What.” Kevin’s glass hits the table. “No.”

“Geez louise…” Arnold mutters. He’s scrubbing his face with his hands, like some sort of overburdened high school teacher, but Kevin is _not_ in high school.

“I’m just asking you to _communicate_ ,” Kevin snaps. “This is me trying to make your life easier, okay? I’m doing my best, Arnold, so stop acting like my concern is only there to bother you.”

“How is me talking about not sleeping going to make either of our lives easier?”

Kevin flouders. “Y- yeah, well, I was just trying to _help_. Married people actually talk to each other, you know.”

Arnold scoffs.

“What-”

“Married for what, Kevin? The next two days? Or does the exemption kick in at the butt crack of dawn?”

“Arnold-”

“No, you wanna know why I can’t sleep? It’s because a month and a half ago, my _husband_ told me that he completely jeopardized our marriage, the one he said he would do his best to… to live with! Okay? That’s why. Everything we worked for, Kev, it’s just gonna go down the drain.”

“You think it’s my fault?”

“Isn’t it? I would have slept with you every single day in the past _year_ if you’d let me.”

“But I didn’t want to. I thought you got that.”

Arnold laughs. “Oh yeah, I _got it_ all right.”

“Stop doing that. You said you knew why.”

“Yeah, Kevin, I do. I get it. Our first time was… you didn’t want it. But I thought you wanted to at least give us a _shot_. Something, Kev; just… I thought after rehab we actually had a chance, but there’s no way. No way this is going to work. And you-”

Arnold gets up and starts to walk towards Kevin. Kevin backs away.

“Look at that! Yeah, we’re _married_ , but what does that mean if you don’t even trust me?” Arnold asks. “Your first time was bad. Okay. But the times after, a few weeks ago? I… I asked you if you were okay. You said you were. You… we could’ve moved past that, Kevin. We could’ve done that earlier, like back in the beginning, and then we wouldn’t _be here_. We’d… do you really think all those other couples out there have it great from the start? Nobody has it great, Kev. Nobody! Why do you think there’s classes for high-risk couples? Because relationships take _work_. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that in the past year? Too freaking many.

“Because they _do_. They take a lot of work. But it’s gotta be work from both sides. I thought, after rehab, we’d… you would actually do that. That’s the only time I thought for sure this was gonna be okay.”

Only after rehab. That’s maybe a week out of the entire year of their marriage. Arnold held on, thinking this all was going to fail, for that whole time.

Kevin’s back hits the kitchen counter; his hands grip at the edge.

“Okay, look,” he says. “You know I’ve got issues. I-”

“Yeah, Kevin, I know,” Arnold replies. “But that doesn’t change anything. You were never gonna try, and I should’ve… I should have just known.”

He turns his back on Kevin and shuffles to the archway leading to their living room.

“Why would you say that?” Kevin asks.

Arnold stops. “I don’t wanna have this conversation right now. It’s late. I already said… I’m gonna regret saying any of this in the morning.”

“Don’t let the sun go down on your anger,” Kevin tries. He stumbles over the words; he’s talking too fast. “Come on, Arnold, you… you have to tell me.”

“It’s the middle of the effing night, Kevin.”

“Chris said communication-”

“I don’t care what Chris said! It doesn’t matter anymore, ‘cause we’re not going to be married anymore after tomorrow!”

Arnold paws at his eyes in that desperate way that tells Kevin he’s crying and trying not to. He shakes his head. “I didn’t ask to be paired with you!” he cries. “I didn’t… but I got you. I got _you_ , Kevin, and now… now I just…” Arnold whirls on Kevin. “Look, you ruined my life, okay? You took everything I wanted and threw it out. All of it. I got left with you and those classes and I didn’t know a damn thing about what I was doing. I didn’t- they told me you were high risk and I just _nodded_ , I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t… I just…”

An unintelligible sound follows, mangled and wounded; Kevin cringes.

“I don’t even know what to do with you! You hate me, you hate our marriage, you never wanted any of this; you never wanted _me._ This marriage means everything to me, and you… you…”

Arnold slumps into his chair. He looks pathetic in the dim light from the fridge’s water dispenser. But he meets Kevin’s eyes. “I still love you.”

Kevin leans all his weight against the counter. If he doesn’t, he’s going to fall over, he knows he will. The kitchen is dark and full of the sound of them breathing, and Arnold… Arnold just said that. Kevin doesn’t know how he could possibly reply.

“I’m pregnant,” he says.

The breathing stops, for both of them.

“...what?” Arnold whispers.

“I’m pregnant. I… I was going to tell you tom- tonight, at dinner. That’s… what the reservation is for.” Kevin’s gaze traces the line of linoleum tiles on the floor. “It wasn’t a goodbye dinner. It’s not going to be.”

“...it’s not?”

Kevin smiles a very shaky smile. “Nope.”

“Are you serious?”

Kevin isn’t sure what gesture he makes with his hands; it’s a cross between a flail and a surrender, like the strangled noise that escapes from behind his teeth. “The tests are in the top drawer of the dresser. You can go look for yourself.”

Arnold’s chair hits the wall as he runs out. A moment later, he’s holding them to Kevin’s face. “These?”

“Yes, Arnold. Haven’t you ever seen a pregnancy test?” His voice wobbles, and Kevin presses the back of one hand to his mouth. He can barely see Arnold in the refrigerator light, but he sees well enough when Arnold throws the pregnancy tests behind him on the counter, and he can feel when Arnold’s sweaty hands wrap around his upper arms.

“Kevin-” he starts, sounding all kinds of urgent, but nothing follows. “ _Kevin_.”

“Please say you’re excited.”

“Kevin, I-”

“Because if you’re not, that’s going to be a problem,” Kevin interrupts. “Honestly, a big problem. If you thought you were stuck with me before, you’re really stuck with me now, and now you don’t have a, a snowball’s chance in _hell_ of getting out. Sorry. We’re both in it for the long haul, and you’re j-just going to have to-”

“Kevin, I love you.”

“D-” Kevin stops. “...I heard you the first time.”

“I don’t care. I’m gonna keep saying it.” Arnold is grinning. His teeth are fuzzy grey in the dimness. “Kevin Price, _I love you_.”

“Arnold Cunningham,” Kevin replies, and now he doesn’t try to hide how much his voice shakes. “I ruined your life.”

Arnold shakes his head. “And then you- you made it _awesome_. Kevin, we’re gonna be _dads_. We’re gonna be married!”

“Arnold, I don’t think you _understand_ -”

“No, Kevin-” His grip gets painfully tight. “- _you_ don’t understand. I love you, and… and I’m sorry, for all that stuff. You didn’t ruin my life. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to it.”

“The things I’ve said to you,” Kevin mutters. “The- everything I’ve _cost_ you. My family. You know I’m going to screw up our kid, don’t you?”

“ _Our kid_ , Kevin,” Arnold echoes. He’s so excited, his eyes are sparkling. “Our kid! We’re gonna have a kid!”

“Arnold, I’m _not_ the best thing that’s ever happened to you. You screwed up my life, but I devastated yours. Just- I’m glad I know, now. Thank you for telling me.”

“Kevin, wait-”

Kevin jerks out of his grasp.

“Kevin.”

Arnold’s hand is on his shoulder. Kevin hugs himself.

“Goodnight, Arnold.”

“Goddamn it, Kevin!”

“What?” Kevin turns and faces his husband. Arnold, with his stupid grins and his ear-splitting laugh and his ‘ _our kid_.’ “What do you _want_? You already said I ruined everything!”

“No, Kevin, that… I didn’t say that, and it’s not what I meant.” He reaches for Kevin’s hand, and for some reason, Kevin lets him take it. What even are they _doing_ ; a pointless little song-and-dance in the kitchen at three AM. “You… because of you, we’re still gonna be married. You know how much that means to me?”

Kevin sighs.

“Don’t- Kevin, listen: why do you think I was yelling at you? Because I actually think you ruined anything? You think I hate you or something? I wasn’t able to sleep because I _wanted_ this. I wanted _you_. From… from the first time I saw you, Kevin, I thought: ‘Wow, I am the luckiest guy on earth,’ and you know what? I really am. Even when you were in rehab, I just… I just wanted you to come home. Okay?”

Arnold’s hands cup Kevin’s cheeks. For some reason, Kevin doesn’t slap them away.

“I just wanted you,” he murmurs. “The whole time. And I’ll keep doing it. Keep wanting you. ‘Cause you’re giving us a second chance.”

A second chance. Kevin wanted a second chance; he wanted that _exemption_. But this… this could be a second chance. This could be something good.

“I love you,” Arnold repeats, for the hundredth time.

Kevin wants this second chance.

“I’m trying,” he replies, moments before Arnold’s lips meet his.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos/comments!


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